


"What is that?"

by butimnotdeadyet



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Dialogue Fic, F/M, I don't have the brain power to add narrative at this point, im sorry, referenced and quickly approaching nudity?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8292568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butimnotdeadyet/pseuds/butimnotdeadyet
Summary: Len, as always, is a thief. Sara is a mildly annoyed and inconvenienced girlfriend. There is a package involved.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own them. But if I did, I sure as hell would have at least referenced Len in 2.01.
> 
> I really just need to write something, guys, I'm sorry.

“What is that?”

 

“Do you like it?”

  
“That was not an answer.”

  
“It's exactly what it looks like, Sara.”

  
“But why are you wearing it? Suddenly can’t handle the cold,  _ Captain _ ?”

  
“No, and because.”

  
“Fine. Where did you get it?”

  
“It's yours.”

  
“What- no it's not, Len.”

  
“Yes, it is.”

  
“No, it's really not. Why would I own that?”

  
“You do. Lisa gave it to you.”

  
“No, she- when?”

  
“Today.”

  
“I haven't seen her in almost a month, Leonard, when would she have given it to me?”

  
“Need I introduce you to the marvels of the US Postal Service, Lance? And here I thought Star had a better public school system than Central. . .”

  
“Why would your sister be mailing me winter accessories?”

  
“My current thinking is that she is once again experimenting with online shopping only to remember that her original blacklisting of the practice came from a lack of color standardization.” 

 

“And?”

 

“She likely thought she was ordering a _ rich gold _ , and got this instead. She’s always had the tendency to pawn off unwanted goods to unsuspecting friends and, this week, that apparently means you - considering she and I have a strict ‘no on-a-whim gifts’ policy and Mick would set it on fire.”

  
“It wouldn't need it, not in that color. Not like that would stop him. I say we  _ re _ gift it to him in Decem- _ wait! Did you open my mail? _ ”

  
“Yes.”

  
“LEONARD SNART! BOUNDARIES!”

  
“Oh calm down, I knew it was from one of the Coast City safe houses. And I open everyone's mail.”

  
“Believe it or not, that doesn't make it better, Len. And we live together, which means you would have seen it anyway and that the ‘everyone’ you’re referring to just means me.”

  
“Yes, and everyone else’s on our street if I have the time. The military husband next door gets a lovely care package from his sister every month. Wonderful baked goods.”

  
“. . .”

  
“What?”

  
“Is that where the spice cookies came from?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“. . . Fine. Keep opening his mail, like, no matter what. But not mine.”

  
“Oh, the demands you make: 'don't steal the landlord’s Buick, but do take his flatscreen', 'quit eating all of my peanut m&ms', 'form a crime ring dependant on the successful apprehension of the neighbor’s sweets'. But I suppose I can live with one fewer act of repeated postal fraud.”

  
“Good, and I’m not going to ask why the cookies would require a crime ring  _ purely _ because I know that you want to explain your irrational logic. Now the real question: why did you put it on?”

 

“Because, this fluorescent fluff may just be the softest thing I have ever touched.”

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“That is to say: you’re not getting it back.”

 

“I can’t get it back if I _ never had it in the first place, Leonard.” _

 

“Glad to see we’re on the same page.”

 

“. . .”

 

“I can feel you planning my swift and untimely demise.”

 

“Good. And you look ridiculous.”

 

“Really? Because the nurse in the paneled single-story on the corner thought I looked ‘handsome and seasonal’.”

 

“Well, she can keep her  _ wrong _ opinions to herself.”

 

“. . . Even went as far to say that orange was my color. I blushed. It was all very flirtatious.”

 

“She’s sixty-five, you icicle-toting asshole.”

 

“Yes, but very spry.”

 

“Oh my God, I can’t handle with you right now.”

 

“Shame, I do so _ love _ being handled.”

 

“Just because we’re standing on our porch doesn’t mean other people can’t hear you.”

 

“Hmm, why the change of heart? You didn’t seem to mind if anyone heard us last-”

 

“Nope! Go inside!”

 

“I’ll do just that-”

 

“Thank you for being an adult.”

  
“-and wait for you in our room after taking off everything but this scarf.”

**Author's Note:**

> The scarf in question is unapologetically based off the last picture in Wentworth's recent (and beautiful) spread in 'Attitude' magazine for his winning of their man of the year award. I was tempted to post it with the fic but I have no confidence in my sourcing abilities and didn't want to step on any toes.
> 
> Thanks,  
> Gin/Dead


End file.
